Smoke Circles
by alisonburnis
Summary: The beginning and the end are much the same. Except the beginning is slower, and the ending is a break. Oneshot. Lit.


Disclaimer: Merely a courtesy

**Disclaimer:** Merely a courtesy.

Expanding on a drabble I wrote at OLC – the original can be found there, in the Drabble thread. It's Lit, a one-shot and kind of angsty. Some dialogue is borrowed from several early third season episodes. I'm easing back into fanfiction.

Feedback would be loved. Enjoy!

Smoke Circles

It's not at all what you expect. Not even close.

What did you expect, exactly? Him to pine away for you? To forget that you had a boyfriend? Midnight trysts, under cover of the dark, steeped in secrets?

You are pathetic.

That's what you tell yourself. That you were in love with the idea, not the boy. That it was temporary insanity. (Temporary? Ha.) That…you were just happy to see a good friend back home after he just left – no warning, no good-bye.

So, you pretend like you don't care. You act like you barely see him sucking face (what else can you call it, really?) with what's-her-name.

(Bleach blonde. Yuck.)

But you dressed up (favourite dress of the moment) and now you have to watch. You can't help it. You try to pay attention to Dean, or to your mother, or to that scary group of men at the gazebo. "Those Lazy-Hazy Crazy Days of Summer." Ugh. Another verse, someone, anyone?

You wander through town. You act like you're having fun.

You can't stop staring at him, even when he's absorbed with _someone_ else.

-

Glare. You're angry. He's angry. He says, "Are you still with Dean?"

You really hate him right now. Yes, you are. No, you're not…

You don't know. Maybe, maybe if he hadn't been _with_ Shane when you got home, you might not be with Dean. Confusing! You don't know anything anymore.

"Yes," you say. "Yes, I'm with Dean. Yes!"

He shuffles his feet. "Glad to hear it."

"Glad to tell you," you spit.

"See you around," he says.

(Is he _enjoying_ this? Oh, God.) "Whatever," you manage.

"Right back at ya."

You storm out of Doose's, hands clenched.

You forgot the food you wanted. (But he looked…amazing.)

-

It gets harder to act like it's doesn't bother. That you're still perfectly in love with Dean. that whoever Jess goes near has nothing to do with you, because you were only sort of friends, anyway, and he's so infuriating, and…and…well. He's just Jess. You don't have to play by normal friendship rules, because he has no concept of them.

You start up the sidewalk to the diner. He's in there. Suddenly, you are no longer hungry.

-

A few weeks.

The dance marathon. You're going to be dancing for twenty-four hours, with your mother, with Dean watching…and with Jess watching.

Oh, dear.

Understatement.

Except that you're wrong. He's not watching, he brought Shane. You feel that jealous stab, and whirl around.

Or just spin. (You can't really move anymore.)You can't look at him. You try to look away, but Dean's right there and how are you supposed avoid looking at _them_ with Dean right behind? You want to look at Dean. Beautiful Dean. He really is, he's wonderful. He's amazing.

He makes you happy.

Doesn't he?

He did.

You know this: that you love Dean. Are you _in love_ with him?

(No.)

You bite your lip, smudging the lipstick (Why does that matter? It's hour twenty-three. You want to die.) and blinking too fast. Jess is still here.

You really want to die. "My heel broke!" your mother moans.

(Does this mean you're going to have to _stand_ by yourself?)

She pushes Dean at you. You look at Jess.

You really don't know what to do.

-

"He's still there," you say.

"What?" Dean mumbles.

"Jess. He's still there. I can't believe he's still there," you say.

"Just ignore him."

"Yeah," you reply. (Not a chance.) "You know, this is a dance marathon. You're not supposed to come and sit and watch, you're supposed to dance. He's just trying to bug me, sitting there right in front of me, staring. Jerk."

It comes from far off, to your sleepy mind. "I'm bored," Shane whines.

"Okay," Jess says. He leans over, and –

"There they go again!" you exclaim. (You're being angry because you're going to cry if you stop talking.) "God, I swear, why can't they just get a room? Or forget a room – get a park bench, or a doorway, or even a strategically placed telephone pole would probably suffice." You're ranting now, fired up and teary. "I mean, girls like Shane – what is it with them? Don't they see what they look like? I know they have mirrors."

You. Are. Going. To. Cry.

"Hey, you talking about me?" Jess yells at you.

(Attention. You perk up, the slightest bit.) "No," you say.

-

It started off so…early. You can feel your day breaking, crashing, blowing up. You can't breathe anymore.

This is what you wanted, right?

It still hurts.

(Absently, you wonder about the dance marathon. What exactly happened there?)

You brush some tears away, rub some makeup off.

"Dean's a jerk," he says to you. "Yelling at you like that, breaking up in front of everybody…the guy's a total jerk."

(You're the jerk.) "No, he's not," you say. "He's right. Everything said." Pause. You try to swallow. "All those things about you and me, all those things about me lying to him, and messing with his head. He was right. Well, wasn't he?" He says nothing. A fresh wave of tears comes. "Fine, he was right about me, then." Gulp. "Now go away."

"He was right," Jess says. You dare not look up. Too much to hope. "About all of it."

"So…what now?" you ask.

"You're definitely broken up with Dean?"

You almost laugh. It strikes you as funny. "Yeah, I'm definitely broken up with Dean."

The word comes out as a breath. "Okay. I have to go take care of something then."

(Really?)

-

In the end, you are still pathetic. He still leaves without a good-bye, you still tell yourself you were in love with the idea, not the boy. He calls and says nothing. You don't know what to say, either.

Until you blow your top. Say what you needed. Expel it from your system.

You sit on the edge of your bed, night before leaving for Europe. Should you make a Jess box? (To go with the Dean box under your bed.)

No.

Yes.

You hug your knees. There wouldn't be a big enough box to hide all of the books that you've read or talked about or thought about with him.

So you don't pack him away. You leave remnants of Jess out. You let them stay where they are.

There is a trail of smoke outside your window. Early summer, people are breaking out their little backyard fireplaces.

(They better have permits, or Taylor will get them.)

You lean your head out the window, watching the wisp go by. It curls up, making swirls.

It disappears.

So did he.

Foolishly, you blow at the smoke, sending it away from you. It bends, darting towards the trees, and floats off, finding somewhere where it is wanted.

You shut the window. Your copy of _Howl _is on the bed.

A disaster began it, and a disaster ended it. But it wasn't so bad, in between.

"See you, Jess," you whisper.

You _will_ see him again.


End file.
